I Smell Trouble
by Jadie47
Summary: Mr. Collins has a secret talent.
1. Chapter 1

I Smell Trouble

William Collins, rector of Hunsford parish, was well-known for his obsequious manner and famous for his servile deference to his betters in social standing. However, he possessed one hidden, secret talent. He could smell trouble - literally. His nose was attuned to all of the nuances of trouble, much as the palate of a connoisseur of wine might be to any vintage.

If one would ask him to describe the essence of trouble, the reverend would say that there were degrees and varieties of scents. He would also claim that his position as rector of the valuable living under the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh was a direct result of his unique ability. When he first met her, he had recognized the fragrance. It was a restrained, smoky humour that hinted at sulphur that was very similar to that of his dearly departed father. Mr. Collins knew how to keep that particular odour from becoming overpowering. He had spent most of his life complying with his parent's dominating whims; therefore, he rarely experienced any discomfort on that score. And this ability helped him to win the condescension of her ladyship.

By the time his patroness had insisted that he go to Longbourn to choose a wife from among his fair cousins, Mr. Collins was quite comfortable with the occasional light whiffs of sulphur at Rosings, but he was pleased that he would have an opportunity for a change of scenery, both optical and olfactory.

Collins was happy to find that he sensed only a faint scent of disturbance upon entering the house at Longbourn. Quite soon, he thought he discovered the source as being the two youngest of the Bennet daughters. If he kept his distance, the smell was bearable.

From his first meeting Jane Bennet, Collins was enchanted. Being with her was like standing alone on a mountain top in the spring. He rarely experienced such a total lack of any aroma of discord. Her beauty was unmatched as well. During the first dinner, he had tried to subtly flirt with her, but he admitted to himself that he was pleased that she had not responded in kind. Her angelic demeanour and absence of the fragrance of trouble seemed beyond his belief, but she seemed perfect for the wife of a clergyman.

However, on the first morning following his arrival, he received a hard blow to his plans for marital bliss as he walked in the garden with Mrs. Bennet. Mr. Collins listened as she spoke of Miss Bennet's expectations. "I feel it is incumbent upon me to inform you that Jane is very likely soon to become engaged, but all of my other daughters are free of any such encumbrances," she said with an encouraging nod toward the girls who stood before him, engaged in various activities.

Although his heart fell at the news, he examined the choices as if he was in a shop and weighed his options. Mr. Collins summarily dismissed the youngest two without another thought, as even now, the wind carried a trace of the odour he had so assiduously avoided the night before. The sharp bite of cloves and vinegar with undertones of camphor made him cough.

"My dear, Mr. Collins," Mrs. Bennet cried, "are you well? I hope that you have not caught a cold."

"Oh no, madam, I am quite all right. It was just a mere tickle in my throat." He bowed and began to apologize for causing her concern. "I am frightfully sorry that my unexpected cough would give you any anxiety on my behalf. I am a very healthy person with a strong constitution, so you must worry no more about ..."

"Yes, yes, Mr. Collins," Mrs. Bennet interrupted impatiently, "I am happy to hear about your good health. I am certain that whomever you should marry will have a long and happy life with you as their husband. Have you given any thought to which of my four other girls you might wish to court?"

Mr. Collins looked from Miss Kitty to Miss Lydia and finally to Miss Mary. That young woman, though trouble free as far as he could smell, was not so fair of face as her older and younger sisters were. No, he would not choose her when he could pick Miss Elizabeth who was next in beauty to Miss Bennet. He had not detected much objectionable fragrance when he was introduced. There was a hint of some spice, but its hue was faint and not very unpleasant. It was entirely possible that she had become tainted by merely living in the same house as her younger sisters.

"I believe that it is only right and honourable that I seek to choose the next oldest." He smiled as he watched Miss Elizabeth laugh at something Miss Bennet said. "Yes, I am certain it is the correct course of action."

Mrs. Bennet's raptures were great. She spent the next fifteen minutes extolling her second daughter's virtues. As Collins listened to the mistress of Longbourn speak of Miss Elizabeth's wit and vivacity, he began to imagine his marital felicity with his cousin. He had no doubt that the advantages of his situation in life would be a great inducement to her acceptance of an offer of his hand. It could be said that one of his biggest flaws was one of self-deception and self-flattery. When he looked into his mirror in the morning, William Collins saw not a man with greasy hair and a florid complexion but one of distinction and education who, though garbed in the austere clothing of a clergyman, had a fine brow and perfectly straight, patrician nose.

From that moment forward, Collins began to show particular interest in his cousin Elizabeth. He started his campaign to win her on their walk to Meryton. He walked with all of his female cousins but stayed close to his chosen one. Knowing the draw of a magnificent house such as Rosings, he spent much of the time regaling her with tales of its splendour. He could not find words sufficient to convey the wonder of the fireplaces or the glazing of the windows of the fine estate.

Elizabeth's quiet, restrained responses gave him much encouragement. So much so, that Collins was ready to delve into the beauty of the gardens when they reached the town, and he was distracted by the cries of joy from Kitty and Lydia. Frowning, he turned to see the youngest girl waving frantically at two officers on the other side of the street. He was about to admonish her when the men crossed and bowed before him and the ladies.

Lieutenant Denny, who was previously known to the ladies, introduced a Mr. Wickham to the party. Collins's nose detected little of trouble in the two gentlemen, though from the latter, he thought he perceived a hint of coal dust, sulphur, and bitters under the calm fragrance of the gentleman. Collins was about to take a deeper sniff to be certain when Lydia came closer to invite the gentlemen to her Aunt Phillips's home for supper and cards that night. Her pervasive scent of trouble caused the cleric to check his inhalation and move away from them.

It was Collins's wish to distance himself from Lydia Bennet that kept him from witnessing what happened next. As the rector moved to stand upwind from his youngest cousin, he failed to see two gentlemen on horseback stop next to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. The cold and hostile exchange of looks between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham would have helped him to understand the wash of nearly overwhelming odours that suddenly hit him.

With his fingers against his nose to protect it from vicious assault, Collins looked around him to find the cause of such a horrid odour, but he could see nothing that would account for it. Two men on horseback, who were heading away from them up the high street and who he assumed had just passed by the group, could not be the source. His lovely cousins, Elizabeth and Jane, stood quietly a short distance from their younger sisters, who were still conversing with the two soldiers.

As the odour dissipated, Collins shrugged his shoulders and moved to stand by the two elder of his cousins. He was in time to hear Jane gently inform Lydia and Kitty that it was time to move on to their aunt's house.

Lydia giggled, and without a glance to her sisters, she coyly said, "And you gentlemen must accompany us so that you may receive your invitation to this evening's entertainment."

That night proved to be an interesting one for the clergyman of Hunsford's parish. At the beginning, he had stumbled awkwardly through what he had intended to be a compliment to his hostess. Mrs. Phillips had seemed offended by his statement that her drawing room brought to his mind one of the smallish parlours of Rosings Park. The whiff, strident of ammonia and lemons, apprised him of his mistake, but it was Elizabeth's explanation of the grandeur of Lady Catherine's home, that quickly dispelled the hint of trouble.

Later while playing at whist, Collins kept bungling through a game that he had never played. Since he was partnered with his hostess, the earlier smell returned and drifted around him as he made mistake after mistake.

Once the game was over, he apologized profusely, proclaiming that his loss was insignificant and a mere trifle. All the while, he tried to soothe his hostess from her pique. He found that these usual methods of calming others were not working, so Collins stood to look for his cousin Elizabeth.

Finding her in discussion with one of the officers he had met earlier that day, he noticed a piquant mixture of bitter almond and black pepper emanating from where they sat chatting. He worried that the gentleman had upset her, so he hurried to her side. "Cousin Elizabeth, are you well?" Collins inquired while frowning at the officer. "Your face is a bit flushed."

"I thank you for your concern, but I am well," she stated flatly.

His disbelief must have shown on his face, for Mr. Wickham spoke up to explain, "Sir, I must apologize, for I fear that information I imparted to Miss Elizabeth might have given her, shall I say, reason to be upset at another person. I am not at liberty to explain further."

At Mr. Wickham's words, Collins watched Elizabeth nod and visibly relax, while the odours of before drifted away.

"Dear Cousin Elizabeth, May I bring you some refreshment? Tea or punch perhaps?" Collins was determined to offer some sort of comfort to his cousin.

"I would enjoy some punch, thank you." She gave him a polite smile.

By now, satisfaction filled Collins's heart. The situation had been settled, and he congratulated himself on his actions to rescue his cousin. He moved to the refreshment table and nearly bumped into a young lady, with whom he had yet to become acquainted.

"Please pardon me, madam," he apologized swiftly. "I was not attending to my steps."

The lady smiled as she dismissed his protestations. "Please, sir, do not concern yourself. There was no damage done."

"Miss…" he hesitated before he continued, "I do appreciate your kindness and forgiveness of my clumsiness. I was to fetch some punch for my cousin Elizabeth."

"Oh, you must be Mr. Collins." She curtseyed quickly before she said, "I am one of Eliza's closest friends, Charlotte Lucas. I am certain that we would have been introduced earlier, but one of my father's horses came up lame. We were late in arriving. I believe you were at the whist table with Mrs. Phillips when we arrived."

"I am happy to meet one of my cousin's friends," Collins bowed over Miss Lucas's hand and took a discreet sniff. Here was a young lady whose olfactory aura was nearly as refreshing as Cousin Jane's. Although she was of a plain countenance, he found himself drawn to her. Inwardly, he chided himself. His choice was made, and his own honour told him that he was bound by his obvious preference to offer for Elizabeth Bennet. Stiffening his posture, Collins dipped his head and said, "If you will excuse me, I must fulfil my promise of refreshment. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lucas."

Once Collins finally returned to where Elizabeth sat, he saw that Miss Lucas had joined her, and the officer who had been with her previously was playing lottery tickets with Lydia.

"Here you are, Cousin Elizabeth," he announced and bowed while handing her the silver punch cup. He smiled at Charlotte Lucas and acknowledged her, "Miss Lucas."

"Mr. Collins." She returned his smile and answered her friend's unspoken question, "We nearly ran into each other. It was my fault since I was bent upon finding you. I introduced myself once I understood who Mr. Collins was. We did not stand on ceremony. I trust you will not expose our social faux pas."

"Oh Charlotte, I am quite shocked," Elizabeth said in a quiet tone. "I must agree to keep your secret, since I am cousin to one of you and best friend to the other. I will keep my own council, you can be sure."

At first, Collins felt alarmed by the conversation, but as the two ladies laughed gaily, even he was able to discern that Miss Lucas and Elizabeth were teasing in the familiar way close friends were wont to do.

With a forced chuckle, Collins sat in the vacant chair opposite the ladies. "It is refreshing to see two such good friends able to converse with such vivacity and jocularity."

"Yes, we often tease one another," Elizabeth admitted. She turned to wink at Miss Lucas.

For several minutes, the threesome conversed amiably, much to Mr. Collins' satisfaction. Sitting beside his two companions, the cleric enjoyed the light, refreshing atmosphere. He was still inexplicably drawn to Miss Lucas, but he would not be dissuaded from his present course. He had promised Mrs. Bennet that he had chosen his lovely cousin Elizabeth, and William Buford Collins did not go back on his word.

By the end of the evening, Mr. Collins was quite pleased with his progress in his courtship of his lovely cousin. He had been sought out more than once to make up a fourth at cards, and although she was gracious in excusing him, he was certain he discerned a hidden reluctance in her.

On the way back to Longbourn in the Bennet carriage, Collins fought the urge to cough with only limited success due, he was certain, to the close proximity of his two youngest cousins. Lydia could not stop exclaiming over the officers, Lieutenant Wickham in particular. With every mention of that gentlemen's name, the air inside the vehicle would be thick with vinegar and camphor. Never was he so grateful that his future inheritance was so close to the little village of Meryton as to make for a short journey back.

For the next couple days, Mr. Collins sought out ways to please his cousin Elizabeth. He read aloud in the evenings from what books he deemed appropriate for the edification of young ladies of quality. Several times a day he found ways to give her even more hints to his comfortable situation at Hunsford parish. He never failed to inform her of his home's close proximity to Rosings and the great lady who was his patroness.

Only occasionally did he detect a whiff of tumult, but Collins attributed it to his cousin's modesty and feelings of inadequacy in light of greatness of his patroness. Deciding to allow Elizabeth some time to become accustomed to the thoughts of living so near to such magnitude, he suggested that Mr. Bennet might like a partner in a game of backgammon.

Once it was time for the family to retire, Elizabeth seemed to have revived her spirits. Mr. Collins was relieved to perceive no scent of distress coming from her direction either. He was able to sleep that night content with the thought that he would soon experience the felicity of a happy marriage.

Soon after breakfast at Longbourn the following morning, Mr. and Miss Bingley of Netherfield arrived to personally invite the Bennets and Mr. Collins to a ball to be held on Tuesday the following week. The invitation was accepted with alacrity by those present.

It was an understatement to say that the youngest of his cousins were excited. And their emotions smelled like trouble to Mr. Collins. He moved as far away from the pair as he could and still be within reasonably close proximity to his cousin Elizabeth. He noticed her quiet demeanour, which pleased him very much. If she would remain calm at the news of a ball given by one of the most distinguished families in the neighbourhood, surely Elizabeth could stay relatively sedate in her ladyship's presence.

As soon as he could after the Bingleys left to extend their invitations to others in the area, Mr. Collins obtained the hand of all of his fair cousins. He did show his preference for Elizabeth by seeking her hand for the first dance, but he knew that as their only male relative other than their father, he needed to see the rest of his lovely cousins had the chance to dance at least once with an agreeable partner.

His offers to dance were met with civil acceptances. However, the air became so thick with the odors of discord that Mr. Collins was forced to go to his room before he could discern from whence the smells emanated. He coughed and gagged his way up the stairs. Knowing that when he married his cousin Elizabeth, he would have to support Mrs. Bennet and the remaining unmarried daughters, he hoped that by the time he inherited Longbourn the source of those vile fumes would be married and safely ensconced in her husband's home.

The days before the Netherfield ball were so filled with tumult and commotion that Mr. Collins took to spending a great deal of time in Mr. Bennet's library. However, soon even that retreat became uncomfortable for the cleric's sensitive nose. Collins started taking walks in the garden until rain forced him to seek refuge in his bed chamber.

The meals were the only time he ventured below stairs for several days. The contentious fumes warred with his pleasure in eating the excellent fare at the Bennet table. Mr. Collins was certain that he would lose weight if the rain did not cease. Finally, the day before the storm subsided, he asked that a tray be sent to his room. He was disappointed in the quantity of food brought to him. However, the quality and the lack of olfactory bombardment made for an enjoyable meal.

The clear, sunny weather on the day of the ball brought relief to all at Longbourn. When he entered the breakfast parlour, Mr. Collins was happy to detect very little that would make him uncomfortable. Attributing the clear air to the fact that only Mr. Bennet and the two older girls were in the room, he greeted them with warmth. He was disappointed that his cousins Jane and Elizabeth were just finishing their meal when he arrived. He sat in his accustomed place and ate with the eagerness of a man half starved.

Mr. Collins kept to his room for all but meal time, since the activity of the ladies of the house wearied him and stirred up a great deal of unpleasant odours when the youngest girls fought over a bit of lace or ribbon. He was greatly relieved when the time came to leave for Netherfield, and Mr. Bennet gave him the use of one of his horses to ride because the carriage would be too crowded with all of the ladies and their finery.

Not being used to riding, he was still quite happy to be out in the fresh night air, away from any whiff of discord that he might suffer inside the carriage. Mr. Collins wished that he could understand why the room seemed to fill with foul smells when he entered one of the Bennet's parlours. He hoped that the ballroom at Netherfield would afford him enough distance from his younger cousins. There was no avoiding the sets he had already secured with them, but perhaps the smells might not be so bad on the dance floor.

For the most part, Mr. Collins enjoyed his dancing partners. He found the steps a bit daunting and made many apologies for having trod on the ladies' toes. Often after a set, he was forced to find liquid refreshment to cool his overheated self.

His overindulgence in the wine could perhaps explain why he thought it a good idea to introduce himself to Mr. Darcy during the supper break. As he explained how he had just been made aware of Darcy's being the nephew of the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park. He rambled on about the good health and spirits of that lady. Collins was rather surprised that the gentleman walked away without as much as a word. He did, however, count himself fortunate that Mr. Darcy did not seem upset, for there was not even the whiff of turmoil. Likely an important man such he had important matters with which he must deal.

On the ride back to Longbourn, Mr. Collins, wearied as he was by the unaccustomed exercise of the evening, found it hard to stay upright on his horse. For this reason, he was grateful to see the front of the house. He rather ungracefully dismounted and staggered inside on unsteady legs. His bed in the guest room beckoned him, so he decided to forego the company of his family for the rest and comfort of sleep.

The next morning, Collins partook of a hearty meal with only Mr. Bennet for company. He looked around as if to find the ladies lurking in a counter.

"I am surprised not to see the ladies here at breakfast this morning," Mr. Collins commented as he loaded food upon his plate. "I hope that they are well."

Mr. Bennet smiled and said, "I am afraid that my wife and daughters require more rest than I on the morning after a ball. I am certain that they shall break their fasts within the hour."

Collins enjoyed the quiet and the sparse conversation since the Bennet ladies' absence afforded him time to eat his fill without interruption. Another benefit of the nearly empty room was the opportunity to think through the proper way he would propose to Miss Elizabeth. He finally settled it in his mind that he would ask Mrs. Bennet for the chance to speak to Elizabeth alone because he was certain that she was his ally in this quest for her second eldest's hand.

As the two youngest girls wandered in to breakfast, Mr. Bennet excused himself soon afterwards to go to his library. The chatter in the room was nearly deafening after the quiet of only moments before, and it did not calm when Mrs. Bennet arrived.

Oddly enough to Collins's way of thinking was the lack of anything malodorous in the room. He supposed it was because the girls and their mother were so happy while recalling the events of the night before. Continuing to eat so that he would not have to be a part of the conversation until his targeted intended should enter the room, he listened with little interest to what was being said.

However, Collins was concerned when his cousin Jane came into the room and still Miss Elizabeth had not appeared. He swallowed a rather large mouthful of eggs before he spoke. "Is Miss Elizabeth unwell this morning? I hope she did not catch some malady whilst dancing last evening."

Jane smiled calmly and said, "Oh, no, Mr. Collins, Elizabeth took some tea and toast in her room before she left on her morning walk. I believe that she shall return shortly."

With some irritation, Mr. Collins finished his meal. He did not like being thwarted in his plan, but with the last swallow of tea he stood and asked Mrs. Bennet if he could have a word with her.

"Oh, to be sure, Mr. Collins," Longbourn's mistress agreed wholeheartedly. She had turned to ring for the maid to fetch her second daughter when she saw her enter the room.

"Ah, Elizabeth," Mrs. Bennet purred. "Mr. Collins wishes to speak to you." She rose quickly from her chair and abruptly ushered the rest of her daughters from the room.

"But, Mama," Elizabeth protested with vehemence, "Mr. Collins can have nothing to say that others cannot hear."

"Nonsense, Lizzy, you will stay and listen to what he has to say," her mother ordered and closed the door tightly.

Mr. Collins could not understand why his cousin Elizabeth was so opposed to staying to hear him, and at first, he thought that she was simply being modest and wanting to keep to proper decorum. However, as he began his proposal, the room began to fill with a fog-like scent that more than once made him want to cough.

There were no words to describe the aroma, but it was definitely not pleasant. As he tried to soothe her with what he considered to be compliments of her person and the benefits of her position as his wife, the air became as oppressive as smoke. He began to perspire as he finished telling her that he would not speak of her lack of dowry once they were married.

Elizabeth finally was able to interrupt him and said, "You are too hasty, as I have not yet answered your question. I shall do so at once. Accept my thanks for your kind offer. However, I must decline your proposal."

Despite the thick smell of trouble in the air, Mr. Collins could not believe that Elizabeth Bennet would turn him down so quickly and decidedly, so he pressed on.

"I do hope that you are not one of those elegant females who reject the suitor they secretly plan to accept in the hopes of raising the man's devotion." He smirked as he thought he had made his point. "I am in no way discouraged by what you have just said, and still hope to lead you to the altar ere long."

As Elizabeth sputtered another rejection with even more strength than before, Mr. Collins began to feel a bit faint as the fumes strengthened. However, the final statement she made caught his attention.

"Were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I am certain that she would find me ill-qualified for the situation."

Collins tried to argue that point, but his heart was not in it. After he argued a while longer, he was finally grateful when Elizabeth opened the door to the room and stalked out. Her mother was waiting outside the door, all smiles for the anticipated outcome.

The resultant chaos and odoriferous aftermath that followed was nearly more than the reverend could stand. Mrs. Bennet's wailings produced no change in Miss Elizabeth's answer. It only raised the odour of trouble by several degrees.

Mr. Bennet did not help matters when his wife called upon him to reason with their daughter and make her accept Mr. Collins. The man refused to force his daughter to marry their clerical relative.

It was after Mrs. Bennet left her husband's book room and tried again to insist that Miss Elizabeth accept him that Collins nearly passed out for the lack of fresh untroubled air. The young lady in question left the room to her mother's great dismay. He determined that he would at least take a walk when the parlour door opened and Miss Lucas was announced.

"Oh, Charlotte, we are in an uproar and not able to have company at the moment," Mrs. Bennet proclaimed dramatically.

As no one in the room was aware that Miss Lucas had been informed in the hallway of Collins's proposal and Elizabeth's refusal of the same, they were surprised to hear Charlotte's words.

"I have come to invite Mr. Collins to visit and dine at Lucas Lodge."

Charlotte Lucas's presence and her words were like a fresh zephyr to Collins. The total lack of trouble and strife in the air at her entrance gave Collins strength.

"I would be honoured to join your family," Collins bowed and turned to his hostess. "Madam, if you will pardon my abandoning you this evening, I shall be back in time to retire."

It was to the sound of Mrs. Bennet's "Oh, Mr. Collins!" that he and Miss Lucas exited Longbourn House that day.

His time at Lucas Lodge was so free from the distressful and odoriferous conflict of the Longbourn environs that Collins was loath to leave the company of the Bennets' neighbours. His only consolation was in receiving another invitation to dine the next day and the following one.

As his stay in Hertfordshire drew in to an end, Collins contemplated his future once more. He had not yet found the bride his patroness so solicitously insisted that he obtain while he was away. As the third evening drew to a close, he looked around the room at the Lucases. At that moment, Miss Charlotte was patiently teaching her sister Maria a new crochet stitch, while Lady Lucas joined him and Sir William after returning from having just checked to see if her youngest children were completely settled for the night.

The domestic home scene soothed Collins in a way that he had not experienced since his dearly departed mother died when he was ten. It was after her death that he first discovered his unique sense of smell. He suspected that she had had the same gift and had used it to keep their home as calm and serene as possible.

It struck Collins forcibly that he wanted this for himself - a home where even if Lady Catherine were to be displeased and the air became too difficult to breathe at Rosings, he could return to the fresh and clean fragrance that was Hunsford Cottage.

Collins stood abruptly and bowed to his host and hostess. "If I may have a private word with your amiable daughter Miss Lucas, I would be eternally grateful."

Although he could tell that he had surprised them with his sudden request, they were by no means displeased. Lady Lucas quickly moved to where her two daughters sat and pulled Maria from the chair.

Nodding at Charlotte, Lady Lucas explained, "Mr. Collins has asked to speak to you in private. Your father and I have given our permission. Come Maria, I will show you another stitch while we wait in the north parlour."

Soon the two were left alone. Miss Lucas sat placidly and looked up at Collins. "Sir, will you not sit down?"

Red in the face, Collins took the seat that Miss Maria had so recently vacated. He pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and wiped at his brow. It did seem strange to him that he would be nervous at this moment when he had not been so when he had petitioned his cousin for her hand.

It was when he took a deep breath of the clean air that surrounded Miss Charlotte Lucas that Collins relaxed. This was the perfect wife for him and, he flattered himself, the perfect match for her as well. His confidence restored, he made his offer and was pleased that he was accepted with no hesitation or reservations.

Upon his return to Longbourn, he avoided the family as much as possible since his betrothed asked him to allow her to inform her good friend, Elizabeth. Charlotte thought that it would be for the best, and he trusted her opinion and did not want to be involved, for fear of a return of the unwholesome fumes he had encountered during and after his ill-fated proposal to his cousin.

So it was that Sir William and Charlotte visited the following morning. While Charlotte broke the news to Elizabeth, her father told the rest of the family. Collins remained in his room until he was summoned for a celebratory glass of wine, which Mr. Bennet insisted upon serving to his neighbours.

Collins could sense the underlying upset of Mrs. Bennet, but there was not a whiff of a problem from Elizabeth or her father. He chose to believe that his fair cousin was hiding her distress behind a controlled demeanour. Surely by this time, Elizabeth repented of her refusal and had hoped that he would offer for her once more.

The rest of Collins's visit at Longbourn passed quickly with more invitations to dine at Lucas Lodge and other of the prominent families in Meryton who wished to entertain the newly engaged couple. When he finally bid his family good-bye, Collins happily entered the hired carriage that would take him to the posting stop.

As he travelled the nearly full day's journey back to Kent, Collins did not cease his self-congratulations. He had done what his patroness had ordered and secured an amiable wife who would no doubt bring him much joy in their trouble-free life together.

Although the wedding happened relatively soon after their betrothal, Collins did not think it quick enough, especially since he had to reside in Longbourn once again. The place lacked the usual vivacity which the clergyman, at first, attributed to his marrying outside of the Bennet family.

Mrs. Bennet, however, dissuaded him of this notion after she told him of the departure of the Bingley party from Netherfield and the heartbreak of her oldest daughter.

His Charlotte explained to him later that day of Mr. Bingley's sisters' disapproval of the society of Meryton, and how they had likely persuaded their brother to leave the area in hopes of turning his attentions in another direction.

The atmosphere of the house at Longbourn was musky and dank with the hint of bitter almonds. So much so at times that despite the weather, Collins had to throw open his bed chamber window in order to breathe deeply of fresh air.

On the day that Miss Charlotte Lucas became Mrs. William Collins, there was a brief hint of winter sun. Both he and his newly acquired mother-in-law felt it a fitting omen for their marriage. The wedding breakfast was festive and ample. Aside from a few puffs of foul fragrance from the Bennet table where the two youngest girls sat giggling and pulling faces in a most unladylike manner, Collins enjoyed the attention afforded him as the groom.

Finally, the newlyweds departed for Hunsford in Kent, and thus began one of the most idyllic times in the life of William Collins. His patroness, Lady Catherine was, indeed, pleased with his choice of a wife. She gained great satisfaction in doling out her advice on every subject imaginable relating to the domestic life of a clergyman's wife. She insisted that Charlotte use only certain herbs in her cooking as they would aid in digestion and promote a healthy constitution. There did not seem to be a single area where the noble lady did not have some opinion or recommendation.

In all of this constant assistance, his daring Charlotte stayed perfectly poised and unruffled. His home was always peaceful and as fresh as a summer's day after a rain. The only adverse odours came occasionally from one of the two servants when they were reprimanded by her ladyship, and even in that Charlotte was able to quickly calm them.

Collins began to rely upon his wife's judgments in more than the running of a household. She encouraged him to visit Lady Catherine each day, and to be in his garden as much as his duties and the weather allowed. One very pleasing suggestion was that he should obtain bees in the spring. The honey would keep them from the need to purchase so much sugar, and the wax could be used to supplement their supply of candles. Her frugality amazed him in that she managed to save something even from the rather meagre allowance Lady Catherine told him he should give her for running the household. His meals did not suffer in taste or lack in quantity.

Indeed, the parson at Hunsford beamed with such goodwill and charity that his parish began to speak of the change the love of a good woman had wrought in his life. He still spent a great deal of time on his sermons with the input of Lady Catherine, but they were no longer preached with the same dull tone as before.

By the time that his cousin Elizabeth came to visit at Eastertide, Mr. Collins had lost nearly all of his resentment brought on by her rejection of his offer to her. He welcomed his father-in-law, sister-in-law, and his cousin with great affability, and after the travellers had refreshed themselves, he gave them an extended tour of the house and gardens.

To his delight, the next morning brought an invitation to dine at Rosings Park that evening. Collins was beside himself as he proclaimed to the party gathered at breakfast, "Again, Lady Catherine displays her condescension and beneficence in this kind invitation. We must all be properly grateful to her ladyship and be on our best behaviour. I am certain that you shall all be quite awed by her home and her presence, but do not be uneasy. She is quite amiable to her guests."

Collins watched as his guests seemed to be speechless at the honour being bestowed upon them, so he proceeded to reassure them with more positive and flattering words about his patroness and her daughter. He also gave them to understand that though Miss de Bourgh was flail and of a sickly constitution, she was an elegant young woman of good breeding.

The evening did not go quite as Mr. Collins had expected. At dinner and after, his cousin did not show Lady Catherine the deference in all things that he and his family did. Miss Elizabeth's conversation with her ladyship was civil enough, but it bordered on impertinence at times. What did surprise him was that he sensed no hint of sulphur from her ladyship, as was the case most times when she was upset or angry. He did however catch a whiff of the sharp scent he remembered from his ill-fated proposal at Longbourn.

Understanding that for some reason unknown to him, Elizabeth Bennet was displeased about something, Collins tried to intervene by changing the subject. "Lady Catherine, I wonder if you would like to hear my cousin play on the piano-forte."

"Do you play, Miss Bennet?" her ladyship inquired.

"A little, but very ill," was Elizabeth humble reply.

"I shall be the judge of that." Lady Catherine gestured toward the adjoining room. "That instrument is likely of far better quality than you are used to, but please give us a sample of your talent."

The tune Elizabeth played was lively and pleasing, though not technically correct. Once she finished and after polite applause from Lady Catherine, her ladyship began a long monologue on the need for constant practice if one was to ever hope to excel in any endeavour, especially music. She even offered her the use of the piano-forte in the housekeeper's home for her practice sessions.

Collins was pleased to hear his cousin thank her hostess for her kind advice and offer. He could not determine if Elizabeth had agreed to take advantage of the use of the housekeeper's instrument, but her ladyship seemed to be satisfied with her expressed gratitude, so he did not think of the matter again until several days later.

Knowing that Lady Catherine's nephews were expected at Rosings for their annual Eastertide visit, Collins was very surprised when both Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam called at the parsonage soon after their arrival. The clergyman made a great show of welcoming them. He fawned over Mr. Darcy in particular, since he considered the man to be the future master of Rosings and his future patron.

As Collins spoke at great lengths to Mr. Darcy about how honoured he was to have such a personage in his humble abode, he did not see that Darcy paid him no mind. Instead, the gentleman stared nearly unblinkingly at Miss Elizabeth.

Collins did, however, notice a faint aroma of discord. It was then that Mr. Darcy abruptly stood and left the clergyman to speak to Colonel and Elizabeth. The odour quickly dispersed, leaving Collins to think that he must have been mistaken about it in the first place.

The maid's arrival with the tea things drove away all thoughts of troubling scents from Collins's mind. He happily accepted a cup. His heart fairly swelled with pride and satisfaction at having two such distinguished guests in his parlour. They surely had come to make his acquaintance, but were now showing their condescension by speaking so amiably with his poor relation.

The next several days and evenings, Collins enjoyed unprecedented notice on both the part of the gentlemen and her ladyship. Nearly every morning one or both of the men would call at the parsonage, and several times a week, he, his wife, and his guests were invited to dine at Rosings.

To Collins's pleasure rarely did he sense trouble of any sort. The one exception to that was when his cousin played on the pianoforte. When first the colonel and then Mr. Darcy moved to join her, Collins, seated as he was next to Lady Catherine, began to notice the sharp scent of her ladyship's disapproval. Recognizing it as the fetor of her ladyship's discontent, he tried to discover its source.

Lady Catherine rose and took her daughter's hand. She hastened them toward the pianoforte and insisted, "Darcy, you must allow Anne to have a part in the conversation. Even though her health has not given her the strength to play, she enjoys music almost as much as I do."

Sighing with relief that he did not have to assist his patroness at this time, Mr. Collins contented himself with another cup of coffee while complimenting their hostess to the room in general. When Lady Catherine returned to her seat, he happily smelled nothing amiss.

It was a few days later that Mr. Collins nerves and olfactory senses were tried on a heretofore never experienced level. He, his dear Charlotte, and her sister, Maria had just returned from dinner at Rosings. His cousin Elizabeth had been unable to attend due to a severe headache. They were all surprised to see Mr. Darcy ride past them toward Rosings. He had not appeared at table with little excuse for his absence except for a vague mention of some urgent business that had taken him away suddenly.

Once Collins opened the front door of his house, a smell of a more malodorous variety than he had ever known assaulted his nose. Unable to breathe, Collins succumbed to a fit of intense coughing. He had wits enough to prevent his servant from closing the door and choked out, "Open all the windows and the back door, immediately."

Charlotte looked at him as if he had lost his mind, but she was wise enough to hasten to help the maid to throw open the sashes before she asked, her voice filled with concern, "Husband, what is the matter? Are you ill?"

As he stood facing the outdoors and taking deep gulps of air, Collins shook his head. He turned to his wife when the toxic smell finally began to lessen. "I do not believe that I can explain what just happened, but thank you for your caring concern, my dear. You are a constant source of joy to me."

Collins lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Weakened by the bout of coughing and not wanting to answer any questions about what ailed him, he asked for a glass of wine. After Charlotte brought it to him, he thanked her and excused himself to his book room.

By the morning as he sat down to an excellent breakfast, Collins had all but forgotten the incident of the night before until his cousin came into the room. A whiff of something unpleasant wafted his way, but before he could investigate, Charlotte spoke, "Eliza, you look pale. Do sit and have some breakfast. I am sure it will do you good."

Satisfied that the unpleasantness was merely the result of his cousin's malady, Collins returned to his meal.

"No, Charlotte, I believe I have been indoors too long." Elizabeth stared longingly out of the window. "I shall take a walk before I eat if you do not object."

He listened to Charlotte's urging Elizabeth to wear her cloak. Collins smiled as he filled his mouth once more, and his cousin left quickly the house.

An hour later, Mr. Darcy and the colonel graced their humble abode with their presence so that they could take their leave from the parsonage's residents. It pleased Collins that the gentlemen so politely asked after his cousin. Both seemed pleased that she was faring better that morning but saddened that she was not at home at the moment.

When Mr. Darcy cited unfinished business at Rosings and left soon after, Colonel Fitzwilliam declared that he would wait a bit longer for her return.

Collins could smell that Mr. Darcy was not pleased with the fact that Cousin Elizabeth was not in attendance for the proper farewells. He would have to admonish her when she returned that she had upset Mr. Darcy's sensibilities. She should have guessed that so grand a lady as Lady Catherine would have nephews with such manners and condescension that they could not help but call upon Hunsford and expect nothing less than a full complement of the family to greet them.

The colonel stayed for some time after his cousin departed but finally left his compliments to Miss Bennet and said his good byes to the rest of the family. Collins could not allow him to leave without expressing, for a good ten minutes, the honour he felt at the gentlemen's taking the time to so kindly farewell his humble family. He begged that Colonel Fitzwilliam convey his gratitude to Mr. Darcy and to her ladyship as well. By the time he had finished his exclamations of gratitude, Collins began to notice a stinging tang in the air.

_Perhaps the colonel was beginning to feel the loss of my humble company, _Collins conjectured. He decided that he would encourage the gentleman to return as soon as he was able.

"Thank you, sir, for your kind invitation," Colonel Fitzwilliam answered the parson's entreaty. "I am certain to do so when I have the opportunity, but I must away. My cousin will be wondering what has caused me to be so late, and my aunt may not be happy to be kept from her own farewells."

Collins gasped at the very idea of upsetting his patroness. He bowed and apologized for detaining the colonel. He smiled and waved as the gentleman mounted his horse and galloped down the lane toward Rosings.

Hunsford's parson was still exclaiming over the wonder of Mr. Darcy's and Colonel Fitzwilliam's civil leave taking when Elizabeth finally returned. Seeing that she had more colour in the cheeks than when she left, Collins proceeded to tell her whom she had missed while out on her ramble. He was gratified by his cousin's reaction to his news. She seemed to understand both the honour of their coming and her loss in not being present. All-in-all, the slight whiff of vinegar only served to prove his point in his own mind.

The parsonage seemed quite dull for a while after Elizabeth and Maria returned home. If it had not been for the lovely, refreshing atmosphere of his humble home, Collins might have regretted their loss. Of course, he did not have a great deal of time to miss his sister and his cousin since Lady Catherine required more of his company than usual to ease her depressed feelings. Her ladyship missed her nephews a great deal, but it seemed that only his little compliments could dispel her gloom.

For William Collins, the next few months passed in a calm and serene manner with little disturbance to his olfactory nerves. His garden produced an abundance - so much so that he had enough to share with his parishioners. Lady Catherine graciously declined to partake of the bounty citing the fact that her own garden had flourished as well, and the crops had to be of superior quality than those grown in a humble parson's garden.

He told himself that a lesser man would have been insulted by such a proclamation. However, he could only agree that since Rosings Park was indeed superior to his lowly abode, the ground in that same park must be a much better medium in which to grow plants, whether flowers or vegetables.

In his home, peace and tranquillity along with sweet fresh air reigned. His dear Charlotte had such a way about her that pleased all of his senses. The house ran so smoothly under her supervision that Collins began to forget that she had ever been his second choice as a wife.

It was not until a letter arrived mid-summer from Lady Lucas that the tell-tale odour of trouble once more permeated his home. Collins had just returned from visiting some of his parishioners. As he opened his mouth in order to greet his wife, he noticed her shocked expression and began to detect something rather foul.

"My dear Charlotte!" Collins exclaimed, "What can be the matter?"

He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and put it to his nose. It did not do much to stem the fumes, but it did help when he waved it in front of his face.

"My mother has written of some distressing news from Longbourn," Charlotte replied, without looking up from the pages.

"What news, my dear, what news?" He cried out and impolitely grabbed for the letter. "Has my cousin Bennet passed away?"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Collins," Charlotte scolded lightly while keeping the letter out of his reach. "No, Mr. Bennet is well though I am certain he is quite upset by what has taken place."

"Please, do not keep me in suspense, Charlotte," he demanded, forgetting the smell for the moment.

"It seems that Lydia Bennet had gone to Brighton upon receiving an invitation from the colonel's wife to stay with her. And while she was there, she became involved with one of the officers. She has left all her friends and has eloped with him." Charlotte glanced up at her husband who was still standing close by. "This inappropriate action of Lydia does not surprise me, as Mrs. Bennet has always indulged her. Mr. Bennet has not taken the time or the energy to correct her flighty and headstrong ways."

"Oh dear," Collins worriedly exclaimed, "That is indeed distressing news. I must go at once to inform Lady Catherine and to ask for her opinion as to what I should write to my cousin by way of conciliation and advice."

"Mr. Collins, surely it is not necessary to bother her ladyship with this family matter," Charlotte tried to reason with her husband. She was aware, even if he was not, that the Bennets would not wish for unsolicited counsel from Mr. Collins or Lady Catherine.

"Why, my dear Charlotte," cried he indignantly, "How can you say such a thing? Lady Catherine is a fount of wisdom and shall likely deem it no hardship to bestow her insight upon our family in this time of crisis. In fact, I am certain that she would be insulted if she was not consulted in the matter."

Within a few minutes, Collins was on the road to Rosings as quickly as his ungainly legs could manage. His statement to his wife proved true in every particular. Lady Catherine had much to say on the subject once he related the situation to her. As she spoke, he ignored the scent of sulphur that began to fill the room. He told himself it must be his imagination, for he felt certain that every word her ladyship spoke on the subject was the best that could be said on the topic. In fact, he secretly wished he had thought to bring paper and pencil so that he could have taken notes. He strove to commit to memory every point so that he could impart to his cousin Bennet every gem of wisdom that poured forth from his patroness's lips.

Once Lady Catherine had imparted all of her astuteness on the subject of the elopement of Lydia Bennet and this as yet unknown officer, Collins took the proper amount of time to express his gratitude for her ladyship's kind condescension. It seemed that a quarter hour was not sufficient to do so adequately, but the lady finally forestalled his communication by explaining she had another appointment that she could not in good conscience cancel. Bowing as low as he could, Collins took his leave.

In his mind, Collins rehearsed what he would write to his cousin Bennet as he walked down the lane to the parsonage. As excited as he was to convey the wise words of his patroness, he stopped to proclaim his return to his wife before retiring to his study and the missive. He spent the good part of two hours working on the letter before he deemed it was ready to be dispatched to Longbourn.

While the next weeks passed at a rapid pace, Collins was quite stumped as to why his cousin Bennet had not responded to his missive. He knew that the words Lady Catherine had spoken and that he had so faithfully recorded could not have given offense. It must have been that their wisdom was so overwhelming that his relative could not find the right words with which to express his gratitude. It was the lot of a clergyman with such a great patronage to be understanding and forgiving of such an oversight. Perhaps when the scandal's smoky fumes died down to bare wisps, he and his dearest Charlotte could visit their families in Hertfordshire once more, as long as they did not stay at Longbourn, of course.

Tucking this self-promise to the back of his mind, Collins sought out his wife, since it was very near time leave for Rosings to dine. He sighed happily, since her ladyship had finally seen fit to resume sending invitations to Hunsford after having heard his tale of his cousin's family scandal. This gave him great hopes of enjoying himself at dinner that evening.

The evening's meal and cards afterward supplied Collins with every hoped-for pleasure. Lady Catherine resumed her gracious condescension and dealt a great deal of unsought but never-the-less excellent advice on a vast variety of subjects. There was no foul aroma to mar the satisfaction at receiving the notice of his beloved patroness.

Two days following the lovely dinner at Rosings, a letter arrived from Lucas Lodge for Charlotte while she was out visiting a few elderly ladies of the parish. Mr. Collins had just finished the first draft his sermon and was preparing to leave for his usual Tuesday afternoon appointment with Lady Catherine wherein she would critique what he wrote and make suggestions for improvements when he spotted the missive on the hall table.

Seeing that it was from his mother-in-law and hoping for some sort of news to relay to her ladyship, Collins broke the seal and began to read. At first all he found was a rehash of old news of the Lucases. The milk cow was still not producing, even after they had faithfully followed the advice Mr. Collins had relayed from his patroness. Mrs. Bennet was now crowing often over the marriage of her youngest at sixteen to the officer they now knew to be Mr. Wickham.

Collins was quite distressed to see that despite the excellent advice he had conveyed to his cousin, the Bennet family had opened their arms to receive the wayward couple. He snorted in disgust at the blatant disregard of the high moral standard held by himself and Lady Catherine. He would have to inform her ladyship of this as soon as possible.

However, the next paragraph gripped his attention and cold sweat beaded his brow. He did not need to wonder as to the reaction of the noble lady at Rosings. She would be livid, and his nose would suffer greatly because of it. Not only had Mr. Bingley come back to Netherfield and proceeded to propose to and be accepted by Jane Bennet, but there was great speculation that Elizabeth Bennet would soon be engaged to Mr. Darcy.

Collins knew that he could not keep this from her ladyship's notice. As much as he dreaded being the one to break the news to her, he owed it to Lady Catherine to always keep her abreast of all the developments within her scope interest. Tossing the letter back onto the table, he scurried out the door and all but ran up the lane to Rosings.

Having been shown in her ladyship's favourite sitting room before he could fully recover his breath, Collins bowed and gasped for breath at the same time. He opened his mouth to speak but he could not speak for lack of air.

"Mr. Collins!" Lady Catherine scolded. "What is the meaning of this exhibition? It would appear that you have been running. Surely there is no call for such exertion since you are fully ten minutes early."

The familiar and unwelcome scent of sulphur made it even harder for the clergyman to master his breathing. His collar began to feel as if it were going to strangle him. His face turned a deep shade of red as he struggled to compose himself.

"Pray pardon me, your ladyship," he wheezed, "but only the direst of news would tempt me to break with the proper manner of arriving at your most excellent home. A most alarming letter has just reached Hunsford today. I knew that you would wish to kn…"

"Mr. Collins!" Lady Catherine interrupted his speech. "Please get to the point. What was of so great an import in this letter?"

With the rising scent of trouble filling the air, the cowering clergyman could scarcely breathe since he had not regained his full equilibrium after his haste to arrive at Rosings. Collins forced himself to take smaller inhalations and continued, "My cousin Miss Jane Bennet has recently become engaged, and there is conjecture her sister Elizabeth will soon be engaged to your nephew, Mr. Darcy."

Later, Mr. Collins would think that Lady Catherine's screech sounded very much like that of Mrs. Bennet, but at the time, all he could think of was how to calm the lady so that he would not pass out from the foulness in the air.

As her ladyship stormed and raged, it seemed to Collins as if the parlour filled with the thick stench of death. Finally when he understood that he could do nothing to quiet the lady's wrath, he hastened to excuse himself and made his escape back to Hunsford.

Once he arrived home, Collins was disappointed to find that his wife had not as yet returned from her visiting. He made his way into her parlour and dropped inelegantly upon the settee, all the while hoping that just being in her favourite room would clean the stench of Lady Catherine's anger from his nostrils.

As he relaxed into the seat, he closely examined the space. Charlotte had definitely put her mark upon the room. Next to her neat desk stood a bookcase, containing the house ledgers and her favourite books. Nothing impractical or fussy crowded the impeccably tidy area, yet it bespoke peaceful and feminine loveliness with the small touches of flowers in vases and her doilies.

When Charlotte finally returned home, Collins nearly swooned with relief. The air suddenly cleared of the residual odour that had clung to his clothes. The freshness his wife brought into the room caused him to rush to greet her with more than usual affection and enthusiasm.

"Mr. Collins, what has come over you?"

"Oh, my dearest Charlotte," he proclaimed as he escorted her into her parlour, "You received a missive from your mother, and knowing that you would not object, I opened it. I was to visit Lady Catherine and wished to apprise her of the pertinent news of Meryton."

He did not notice the air in the room become stale and fetid until he looked up and saw that his wife was staring at him, a look of displeasure upon her face.

"Oh dear, you do object to my reading your correspondence without permission." Collins vacillated between asserting his rightful authority as the man of the house and his wish to return to the calm, sweet breezes that he associated with wedded bliss.

Charlotte nodded curtly to his statement and crossed her arms.

It was that crossing of her arms that decided Collins's course of action. Dropping to his knee before Charlotte, he clasped his hands as if in prayer. "Please forgive me, my love. My enthusiasm to carry news to my patroness overrode my better judgement. I promise I shall never invade your privacy again. I will not even ask for the contents of one of the letters you receive. I shall never reproach you if you choose not to share it with me. I beg your pardon in the most beseeching of terms."

One of Charlotte's small hands caressed the hair on the top of his head. "Of course, I forgive, and I shall hold you to your promise, for although I would very likely have shared the contents of my mother's letter with you, I would have liked to have had the choice to do so."

"Oh yes, dearest Charlotte, you are correct." He took her hand and kissed it. "Thank you for your kindness to your foolish husband."

"Please do stand up, William." Charlotte smiled at him.

Collins hastened to gain his feet, continuing to verbally grovel. The air in the room was even sweeter than before. He smiled happily as his humble home had returned to its normal peaceful state.

Deciding that Charlotte needed to know how Lady Catherine had responded to the news he had related, Collins asked that she hasten to read the missive.

Once she had done so, Charlotte understood the possible reaction of their patroness. "Lady Catherine was displeased upon hearing this rumour, was she not?"

"Oh, my dear, it was dreadful. I could hardly brea… I mean, stand before her wrath. I tried to calm her, but to no avail, which is why I am home this early. I am unsure how to remedy the situation."

"Husband, I am certain that there is nothing you can do to make things better. In fact, any attempt will likely make things worse."

She turned to ring the bell for tea. "Let us have some refreshments and think of ways to avoid her ladyship's presence for a few days. Without a reminder, she may calm herself."

Remembering the suffocating result of Lady Catherine's latest outburst of anger, Collins readily agreed and determined to find a great deal of pressing parish work to do within the next few days.

As it happened, Collins did not have to make excuses to stay away from Rosings. The following morning a footman from the great estate delivered a message that her ladyship and her daughter would be travelling to Town for an undetermined amount of time.

Collins, who normally would have stood at his gate to bow the lady farewell, found a great deal of pruning needed to be done in his rose garden. He was happy with his decision when even the fragrance of his prized blooms did not completely cover the stench of her ladyship's wrath that emanated from her passing carriage.

The week his patroness was gone was a surprisingly pleasurable one. Only once did Collins suffer the scent of trouble and that was because of a minor dispute between two of his choir members about the proper pitch for a certain song. Charlotte, who happened to be assisting the choir director, was able to calm both ladies and convince them both of the correct note.

Often within the many months of his marriage, he found himself praising his Lord for the gift of Charlotte and that he had narrowly escaped the olfactory disaster of marriage to his cousin Elizabeth.

Once Lady Catherine return from her journey, she did not invite the Collinses to dinner or even for cards for a week or so. Collins found that he suffered the deprivation with little hardship to his person or, more to the point, his nose. Since receiving the invitation to the upcoming double wedding of his two cousins to Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, he still took to his roses as soon as he heard the particular rattle of her coach on the road near his home.

Finally Lady Catherine's aura of nose stinging wrath had subsided enough, so that he no longer had to hide in the rose bushes when her carriage passed by his humble abode.

After a few more days, Collins and his wife received an invitation to take tea with her ladyship and her daughter, Anne, and they could not decline and risk offending the lady.

Upon their arrival, Collins took a deep breath to determine the state of his patroness's mind. Finding little but her normal scent of slight distemper, he smiled and followed the butler to the drawing room. Inside he found Lady Catherine seated in her usual throne like chair, an almost pleasant look on her face.

"Mr. Collins, Mrs. Collins, welcome to Rosings," her ladyship greeted. She motioned for them to take their usual seats in front of her on the right. After asking after their health, she began a long discussion on parish concerns. Throughout the dinner and cards, she rarely stopped talking. It was almost as if she had saved up all of her conversation since they had last been together.

Once it was time for their departure, Lady Catherine ventured to speak of the upcoming wedding of her nephew. "I shall not be attending. It would be seen as approval which I do not and never will give. However, it would be unseemly for any Bennet family member to be absent from the proceedings. Therefore, I give you leave to attend. Do not stay at Longbourn. Lucas Lodge would be a more fitting place for your short stay. Upon your return, I shall require you to give me a full accounting of the proceedings."

At this pronouncement, Lady Catherine bid them good night and walked away.

Collins was rather surprised to be given this chance to attend the wedding, but soon the surprise turned to pleasure that his patroness would entrust him to remember and give her the details of the event. He wondered briefly if he should take notes, but decided against it, since between his dear Charlotte and himself, he was certain no important detail would be forgotten.

So it was that William and Charlotte Collins attended the weddings of Elizabeth Bennet to Fitzwilliam Darcy and Jane Bennet to Charles Bingley. Everyone including his wife were astonished at how little the clergyman said during his visit to Meryton. He spent the majority of his time observing. When his wife asked about it, he merely responded that he did not wish to miss a detail of the proceedings. He would not wish to leave anything out of his report to Lady Catherine.

At the wedding breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Collins made their addresses of congratulations to the newly married couples. Although Collins gave more deference to his newly acquired cousin, Mr. Darcy, he did not neglect Mr. Bingley in his effusions.

Mr. Bennet looked on in bemused amazement. Rarely in his limited exposure to his clergyman cousin had he seen such restraint of speech. Perhaps in relation to other men, Collins's communication was not temperate. However, the younger man seemed to keep himself under a great deal more regulation than Bennet had before observed. The master of Longbourn wondered to himself if the man's wife, Charlotte was responsible for the change.

As the festivities drew to a close, Mr. Bennet stood near his wife as she bid farewell to her two daughters and their husbands as they entered their respective carriages. Collins hurried forward and bowed so low and so quickly as to nearly cause Mrs. Bennet to fall backward.

As usual, the clergyman apologised long and redundantly. The scent of Mrs. Bennet ire did not help, as it only fuelled more words of regret. It took Charlotte's intervention to free Mrs. Bennet to farewell her other guests.

Mr. Bennet stepped back immediately after ascertaining that his wife had not been harmed by the foolish actions of his cousin. Knowing Mrs. Bennet as he did and her dislike for the future heir to Longbourn, he wanted nothing more than to make his way to his library. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he lifted it to his nose.

As he strode back into the house, Mr. Bennet could be heard to say, "Whenever that man is around, I smell trouble."

The end.


	2. Epilogue

**A/N: After I posted this story, I was asked for a little more from Mr. Collins. I had felt at the time that I might have missed something, so I have been pondering the suggestion for a while. Here is what came to mind. I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

Epilogue

Drawing in a deep inhalation of the refreshing fragrance that was his wife, Collins noticed something slightly different. Oh, the scent was still soothing to him, but there was a hint of more. It was something that he could not recall ever experiencing before. He searched the coach, thinking perhaps he had missed another passenger.

When he did not find anyone, - indeed, how could another person have escaped his notice in their small conveyance?- Collins studied his wife. He observed that Charlotte sat serenely while gazing out the window. Occasionally she would smile, but he could see no change.

Finally he could not hold back the question. "Charlotte, something is different about you. What, pray tell, is it?"

The warmth of the smile Charlotte bestowed upon him caused his breath to catch. She held his gaze for several seconds before she spoke, "I had been debating as to the proper time to tell you. You have been intent upon observing and retaining the details of the wedding that I did not wish to distract you from it."

That his wife would know him so well pleased him beyond measure. She had something obviously pleasant to tell him, but she had restrained herself for his sake.

"I love you so dearly, Charlotte," he blurted out, with no forethought. "You are the perfect wife."

He watched as she blushed in pure pleasure. Leaning forward, she laid her hand on his. "I love you, too, dear William."

Those words circled around him like the most beautiful of music. The bliss was almost too much to bear. Collins grabbed up her hand and kissed it repeatedly. It was not certain what he would have done next if Charlotte had not gently pulled her hand from his.

"My dear, you have not yet heard my news." Her words would have been an admonishment if not for the tender, loving tone.

"Oh, of course, my love, I apologize for allowing my emotions to overwhelm me." His cheeks grew warm. "Please continue."

Again, Charlotte leaned forward and took his hand. "My dear William, we are to be parents."

Shock quickly followed by exceedingly great joy washed over him. His dearest Charlotte was to make him a father. As he pondered the idea, he was suddenly overcome with the fear that he would be like his own father. He could not bear to think that a child of his would have to live with such a one. He dropped his wife's hand and scrubbed his face with both of his.

"William," Charlotte said tentatively, "Are you not pleased?"

Startled from his negative thoughts, Collins saw the concern upon her face. "Oh my dearest love, I can not tell you the joy I feel, but I am also, fearful that I might be like my own father. While I respect his memory, I did not feel close to him. He was strict, cold, and very demanding."

"You shall be a wonderful father." She tried to reassure him.

When she saw that he did not seem to be convinced, Charlotte spoke again. "I have never witnessed you being strict, cold, or demanding with anyone. Since our marriage you have grown as a man; the man I have come to love most dearly. I have qualms about being a mother, but I know you will help me as I will you."

Collins searched her face and saw only her love and confidence in him. He smiled. "I believe you, dearest. My only other concern is that Lady Catherine may want to involve herself in our child's upbringing more than we would like."

Charlotte grinned. "We shall have to think of ways to prevent that. She does have much good advice, so that I think we shall not have to oppose her on every count. And your special talent shall give us fair warning of most of her moods."

Eyes wide in surprise, Collins croaked, "You know?"

"I have suspected almost from the beginning of our acquaintance, but it did not take me long to understand. It is only one part of you that I find so appealing."

Sighing contently, Collins squeezed his wife's hand before he released it. He leaned back against the seat. "We shall be very happy, shall we not?"

"Indeed, we shall," Charlotte replied with a smile. "Indeed, we shall."

Truly the End


End file.
